


Maple Bacon and Irises

by musicmillennia



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: #UnderworldWedding, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Cupcakes, F/M, Fluff, Hermes has an Instagram, Language of Flowers, Modern Era, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9781115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/musicmillennia
Summary: A modern Persephone/Hades au that butchers the myth and has cupcakes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kickingshoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickingshoes/gifts).



Most say it’s James Olsen who starts it, but really it’s Zeus who sets the wheel in motion.

After all, Zeus is the one who once again puts his child in the hands of humans. Zeus is the one who permitted that child to come and go from Olympus as he pleased. And it is certainly not James Olsen’s fault that Zeus pulled Demeter into bed, pissed off Hera _again_ , and sired a daughter, _or_ that Zeus allowed this daughter, the child’s closest blood relation—a cousin, first cousin, actual no-twice-removed, _cousin_ —to visit his human family’s home as well.

And really, it’s the 21st century. It’s not like there aren’t any other demigods being made! Persephone doesn’t think her wanting to date a human is the worst thing in all the worlds.

But apparently it _is_ the worst thing in all the worlds. Even if Clark vouches for Jimmy, because Jimmy is his _friend_ and Zeus said just last week that he approved of him. Then Persephone goes to her father, tells him she wants to be called Kara—she’d been thinking about Cora but it didn’t seem to fit—with the new times and that she wants his blessing to court James Olsen and suddenly, _sound the alarms_!

Ugh. _Kings_.

At least the rest of Kara’s family approves. Her mother thinks Jimmy’s a fine young man, and who is Zeus to judge with all the demigods he’s sired? And her sister, the soil and the roots to Kara’s blossoms, who’s taken the modern name Alex, tells her plainly that anyone who has Kara’s love will never be worthy, but they must be truly spectacular.

(Kara may or may not cry a little at that one.)

Still doesn’t stop Zeus from throwing a big party and not-so-subtly inviting every bachelor this side of Olympus…and others besides.

He invites _Hades_.

Yeah.

Zeus _hates_ Hades. Pretty sure everybody and their distant fifth cousin hates Hades. Kara’s grown up on stories about him from her mother: he kills the harvest, burns Kara’s precious blooms, and snatches souls who don’t deserve death as often as those whose time has come. Uncontrolled, wild, a great and terrible power.

He carries his famous Helm in the crook of his arm and says, “Where’s the food?”

Kara backpedals from the dessert table.

“Why is _he_ here?” she hisses to Alex.

Alex can only shrug. “He’s…a bachelor?”

Kara’s mouth drops. “No way.”

“I’m sure Zeus doesn’t actually intend for you to marry him. Might just be for shock value—y’know, to get you thinking on what consequences he might throw at you for Jimmy.”

So it’s completely and utterly Zeus’ fault that Persephone stomps right back over to the dessert and tells Hades, “The cupcakes are awesome here.”

Hades hums around a cream-filled donut. “Lotsa food’s good here. I’m gonna steal most of it, so you better get eatin’.”

His voice is all guttural and low. He’s tall and his dark armor and cape grips his muscular muscles in all the right ways. He’s clean-shaven on all accounts, but there’s a pinch of stubble on his cheeks and heavy-set red brown eyebrows perpetually furrowed over dark eyes. Basically, he’s the kind of guy that romance novels—both human _and_ Olympian—swoon over.

Not that Kara reads any of those.

He nods at the party. “So, you the kid Zeus wants to one of these schmucks to marry?”

They’re both holding too many things—Kara might, _might_ have gone a little overboard with the cupcakes—so they can’t shake hands, so Kara gives him her friendliest smile despite the enormous creepy shadows rolling at Hades’ ankles.

“Call me Kara!” she says.

Hades scrunches his face. “That’s not gonna work.”

“Oh, um, well, my original name is Persephone.”

“Nah. I’m gonna call you Skirt.”

Kara splutters, and a voice cuts says, “Ignore him. He doesn’t get out much.”

Hades’ expression darkens further as a blonde goddess sidles up to Kara.

“Name’s Thanatos,” she says, “but I go by Sara these days.”

Kara’s forced to put a cupcake down. Since they’re pretty close to opposites, their handshake causes a sharp chill. But Sara doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“If he keeps bothering you,” she says, “just remind him that Zeus assigned me to pull him right back down.”

Kara looks at Hades. “I-I’m sure it was—I mean, I _am_ technically wearing a skirt,” gesturing to her blue dress.

Hades grins darkly. “Yeah, that too.”

“…oh.”

Sara rolls her eyes. “Just keep what I said in mind.”

“Yes,” Kara says, “thanks.”

She picks up her cupcake and turns back to Hades. “So…um. How’d you get thrown into the Underworld? I mean, I’ve heard a whole bunch of stories.”

“I like to steal things and set Olympus on fire,” Hades replies.

“Oh. Um. That’s a—colorful backstory?”

Hades grunts and chomps down the rest of his donut, downing it with a shot of ambrosia.

“Mm,” he says, “they don’t make this kinda stuff where I’m from.”

Kara licks stray icing from her lips. “Is there like, a special Underworld wine?”

Hades snorts. “There ain’t no wine. Ain’t nothin’ down there. When I say I came for the food and not for you, Skirt, I mean it.”

Kara’s eyes widen in horror. “You mean…you don’t have any cupcakes?”

“No,” Hades growls, “I gotta rely on _deliveries_.”

“Who—”

“But I’m always on time, _Mick_.”

Kara whirls around. “Herme—er, Len—Leonard! Snart! Leonard Snart! Hi!”

“Persephone,” Snart deadpans, “Kara. Kara Danvers. Hello.”

Kara glowers at him. Then she perks up and whirls back to look at Hades. “Wait, your name’s Mick?”

Hades salutes with his own cupcake (he’d chosen the one with the fire frosting, of course he did). “Mick Rory. Thought if I ever go to the human cities, y’know.”

Poseidon barks a laugh. “The only humans you’ll ever be around are those whose souls you’ve stolen!”

The party goes quiet.

Snart raises his eyebrow at Poseidon. “Missive one million, two hundred thousand twenty-two. I delivered it just last week, don’t you remember? You were writing to one of Zeus’ demigod kids, asking how he was doing and when you can see him again. That’s right,” he tells the crowd, “our dear sea king’s fucking Zeus’ half-human progeny. But by all means, let’s talk about a millennia-old spat.”

The crowd goes wild. Kara’s plowing through cupcakes like popcorn.

“ _Really_?” she whispers.

Mick’s face seems to be rosier, his eyes a little more brown. “Word of advice: don’t mess with the thieving messenger.”

Thunder shakes Olympus. Kara watches the massive trainwreck unfold.

“You should come by more often,” she tells Mick. Then she gasps. “Wait! Snart, when do you deliver the cupcakes?”

Mick and Snart blink at her.

“Thursdays,” Snart replies, “Saturdays when missives allow.”

“Okay! So, how about,” Kara taps her lip. “I can take stuff at night? My job’s all during the day. I mean, I won’t be able to actually enter the Underworld, ‘cause you know, then I’ll never be able to go anywhere ever again, but I can take things to one of the entrances? How about Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday? That way you’ll only have to be miserable and dessert-less on Tuesday and Friday! And,” she lowers her voice, though with all the noise Zeus and Poseidon are making, there’s no need, “we can get the big guy angry.”

Mick blinks again. And again.

Snart’s grin is positively devious. “Sounds like a plan to me. I’ll get you a map.”

Kara grins back, far lighter and happy. “Awesome! Cupcake Wars is a _go_!”

Snart shakes his head. “You ever meet Hestia? Goes by Felicity?”

“Um, not really. I’m kinda away from Olympus’ hearth all the time.”

“I think you two would get along like a house on fire.”

Mick chokes a little on his cupcake.

 

After a very long and very extensive lecture by Alex telling her Not to Do This, Kara takes the map Snart dropped off the morning after the party and gets to work.

She calls in a favor from Caitlin. The sun’s always been kind to her, giving her warmth, energy and beauty, and she’s more than happy to give her a few drops of sunlight to make a pile a sticks into a shiny gold serving tray, though Kara feels a little bad for not telling her exactly what it’s for, only that it’s a good cause.

Next, Kara weaves some daisies, crocus, and coreopsis and piles them all onto the tray. Then she grabs the small tower of Tupperware she took from the Olympus kitchens and makes for one of the entrances.

The closest one is a meadow not too far from where Kara’s preferable field. She unpacks some of the Tupperware and sets the cupcakes on the tray, weaving her flowers around and between them to make a lovely display, setting the rest of the Tupperware in two big piles.

Just to make sure, she goes to the dead oak that marks the entrance and hugs it until it’s vibrant and beautiful. She takes some of its sap and writes a messy _For Mick!_ on the side of one of the bigger containers.

Then, just because, she crosses to another forest and asks the dryads for some of their best maple syrup. There’s nothing like fresh Canadian dryad syrup on the fluffy cupcakes of Olympus.

She whispers the words of the old language that Snart inscribed, makes sure to wave at the Ferrywoman, and leaves in a flutter of blue.

 

Kara doesn’t see Mick after that, but Snart comes by every so often to tell her that he gets her treats.

After a while, Kara opts for simple irises cover her trays. She starts rending the serving plates from her own hands, sometimes making them with other flowers and sturdy vines, others with woven branches. And she always writes in the oak’s sap _For Mick!_

Her deliveries are pretty much the only good thing in her existence right now.

Because it turns out that even if by some miracle Zeus gave Kara his blessing for courtship, James wants to just stay friends. Then there’s Eros—likes to call himself _Mon-El_ to be all mysterious—who keeps making innuendos about blooms and fertility, and Zeus is encouraging it! And even though Alex is there for her as she’s always been, their mother is worried about this year’s harvest and they’re all a little more than stressed.

Kara tries to make her blossoms thrive, but there’s just too much heat. If only they had some _cold_ around here—and no, no matter what Leonard Snart says, _he is not the solution_ —or maybe even a whole season dedicated to just letting the plants go dormant for a while. Even plants need sleep!

But _Kara_ is the kiss of the growth. _Kara_ is the breath of warmth in the stems, the brightness in the petals. She can’t breathe cold. She can’t give the plants any rest.

She sprinkles irises on her tray, frowning at their faded color. She whispers the words to the sagging oak.

Mick is standing there.

Kara falls on her butt. “Whoa! Uh, hey there!”

“Lotsa heat strokes happening lately,” he says, “thought I’d experience it myself.”

“Um…not that I’m not glad you’re here, y’know, ‘cause it’s been such a long time, but uh. Wouldn’t Zeus be a little mad if you come to the surface?”

“But I’m not,” Mick says, “by the ancient laws, I’m still in the Underworld. So he can shove it up his electric ass.”

Kara clears her throat. “Right, yeah. Very descriptive. Cupcake?”

They munch a while, staring up at the stars. Mick seems to take particular pleasure in them, staring at the night sky with a prisoner’s hunger. Kara supposes there aren’t any real stars in the Underworld, only ghosts of those long dead.

“They mean I enjoy your friendship.”

Mick tilts his head.

“The flowers,” Kara says, “irises. I mean, they have a few possible messages, but that’s the one I want to send to you.”

“Flowers _mean_ stuff?”

Kara smiles. “Sure they do! People still use my flowers to send each other messages. It was a huge thing way back when. I had my own trend! Isn’t that cool?”

“So we’re friends.”

He looks dumbfounded when he says it, like Kara’s lost her mind.

Kara tucks her hair behind her ear, minding the flower crown of red and blue on her head. “Well sure. I mean, we don’t talk much in person, but we share the bond of cupcakes. I think that’s pretty special. I mean, nobody but _nobody_ likes maple and bacon cupcakes but you—”

“ _That’s_ what was in those things?”

“Yeah! Aren’t they delicious?”

“I threw ‘em in Tartarus,” Mick says.

“…oh.”

“That shit doesn’t belong on a cupcake, Skirt.”

“It’s been actual years since that party! I thought you were over that nickname.”

Mick gets that confused look again. “It’s been years?”

Kara blinks. “Of course. Wait, did you not know that?”

Mick glances over his shoulder at the gaping darkness. “Time doesn’t work in the Underworld. I only know what day it is ‘cause you and Lenny drop stuff off.”

“Snart doesn’t tell you?”

“Don’t think to ask.”

Kara bites her lip. She looks at Mick’s sunken eyes, bruised with restlessness rare among their kind, and skin pale as lilies, making the inky armor a tight chain more than clothes.

She shoves the tray at him. “Pack these up on the ferry and have Charon take them to your lair.”

Mick raises an eyebrow. “My lair?”

“Your cave—castle—whatever you live in!”

“Why?”

Kara takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders. “Because we are finally going to use the name Mick Rory.”

She takes his hand and pulls him out of the dark.

 

Kara and Mick have so much fun it’s practically illegal, actual illegal implications aside. He gets a taste of modern clothes and human alcohol and of course, pastries from every country Kara can take him to in one night. She babbles to him about her sister, her sister’s sweet girlfriend, the grudge Zeus still has about Poseidon’s affair that’ll probably last for the next eternity. He tells her a bunch of stories from the Underworld, which are surprisingly hilarious enough to hurt Kara’s stomach and make nearby vegetation overflow their vases and boxes.

In a bar in Louisiana, he yanks off the glasses she’s put on and undoes her bun, until she’s sitting there in a butter yellow dress and golden hair flushing around her shoulders.

“Better,” he says, “makes y’look more like you.”

Kara beams. She _does_ feel a little more like herself.

Dawn comes too soon.

“We should do this again!” Kara says recklessly.

Mick smiles a little. She wishes he didn’t look so sad. “This was fun,” he admits, “but we know it can’t happen again. You an’ me, we’re not s’pposed to hang out.”

“So what if harvest and death don’t really go together? We’re not just our jobs, Mick! Look at you! Only a few hours away from the Underworld, and you look so much better!”

Mick’s cheeks are finally flushed, and without the heavy armor he dropped off at another entrance, he stands taller, more alive.

“That’s ‘cause I was hangin’ out with Persephone,” Mick says.

“While that’s oddly very sweet, I swear it’s just the fresh air!”

“Go home, Skirt.”

“I’m serious! Imagine what it would be like if you were in the _sun_ —”

“ _Stop it_.”

Shadows claw at the ground. Kara reels away.

Hades snarls, “You keep talkin’ like that and I’ll rip that pretty hair right outta your scalp.”

Kara shakes her head. “I…Mick—”

“I’m all for breakin’ the rules, Danvers, but even I know some things just can’t happen. Now _back off_.”

The clothes on his back melt into black sludge, twisting around his skin until the familiar armor is back.

The ground swallows him whole.

“Oh yeah?” Kara yells at the patch of grass, “Well see if I bring you any cupcakes now! Yeah, that’s right! I’m eating _all of them_!”

She storms off. Then slows down and walks. Then sighs and mutters, “Okay, maybe I’ll save some for you.”

 

Snart visits Kara’s field a week later with a note written in charcoal ink.

“For you,” he tells Kara, getting Alex’s attention.

“I got mail?” Kara gushes, “Who’s it from?”

“A mutual friend.”

Kara gapes. She tears it open.

In messy, rusty script, reads _Sprig of white ivy + purple hyacinth_.

Kara puts her hand over her mouth.

“Color me curious,” Snart says, “it’s not often he gets a pen pal.”

Kara swallows. “It’s, um. It’s. It’s a thing.”

“…yes, pen pals are a thing. A lotta things are things.”

“Just—it’s flower language.”

Snart blinks. “Mick…gave you a message in _flowers_.”

“Nothing like _that_!”

“Still sent you a flower message.”

“Well—here,” Kara kneels to the ground. She weaves a small bouquet of irises. “Give these to him.”

“You want me to give flowers to Mick.”

Kara grins and nods.

Snart slowly takes them. “I suppose I was bound to have an off day _some_ time this century.”

When he disappears, Alex smacks Kara’s arm.

“What was that for?” Kara cries.

“ _Mick_?” Alex hisses, “As in _Hades_ Mick?”

Kara looks back at the note. “I—he likes cupcakes!”

“He’s _Hades_!”

“He’s not as bad as you think, Alex. You should’ve seen him in the fresh air—”

“He was on the surface?!”

“Only for one night, but it did wonders for him! We had a whole bunch of desserts from all over the world, and he finally got to put on some actual, modern clothes! I mean, he kinda melted them back into armor, but I can tell he wants to be in the sun if we could just give him a _chance_!”

Alex shakes her head. “Sister. I love you and I will always stand by you. But you have to realize the magnitude of your actions here. Hades has burned and slaughtered countless. He has pillaged and destroyed and he enjoyed every moment of it.”

“And Zeus is so much better?” Kara snaps. “I’m not excusing him for what he’s done, but you should at least hold everyone accountable too. Mick is rude, terrible, irritable, a pyromaniac, a killer, and basically everything that makes a villain, but at least he’s _likable_.”

Alex is shocked into silence.

Kara sighs. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to blame you. It’s just…he’s my friend. And we had so much fun, and look! He’s apologizing about an argument we had that night. I can’t even remember the last time my father apologized for anything.”

Alex bites her lip. “I can’t control the things you do, Kara, not even if I wanted to. I just want you to be careful.”

It’s not exactly permission, but Kara will take it. She might not need it, but it’s good to know Alex isn’t completely against the idea.

“He named a huge three-headed dog _Spot_ , Alex.”

“…he what?”

 

“Why so blue?” Mick asks.

Kara smooths her blue dress and smiles. “Mick, hey! You got my message!”

“Kinda hard not to when you got Hermes holdin’ it. You really like irises.”

“Well, I really enjoy your friendship.”

Mick’s eyes shimmer a little browner in the starlight. “Whatever you say, Skirt.”

“Oh! Here are your cupcakes.”

“…they’re all maple and bacon.”

“Yep!” Kara chirps.

“Why.”

“Well if you wanted something else, we could always go to that nice fudge shop in Pennsylvania, or that eatery in Salzburg, or…”

Mick looks at the tray. Looks back up. “You’re bribing me.” He sounds pleasantly surprised.

“Yes I am! You are a terrible, terrible influence.” A pause. Mick does nothing. “Well, come on! The world’s waiting!”

After a few more rampant urgings, he puts down the tray and takes her hand.

 

If Artemis knows what’s going on beneath her moon, she doesn’t say anything. Kara doesn’t know how to thank her just in case she’s ignorant of the fact that Persephone’s dragging Hades out of the Underworld for funnel cakes and sundaes.

She’s taken him to a few carnivals and amusement parks along with their gastronomic tours and dive bar sensations (which are amazing names and don’t let Mick tell you otherwise). He is _killer_ at shooting games while she nails it at whack-a-mole.

(Snart’s getting a twitch in his eye when he mentions how many stuffed bunnies Mick’s got lying around these days. Kara denies nothing: she got those fair and square and Mick is going to keep them.)

Mick is a vibrant flame all on his own, despite spending so long in the dark. Kara loves watching him thrive, a unique kind of blossom to coax into bloom, bright and beautiful even if he grows from bad soil. Kara wants to see him soar.

But with really good things come even worse things.

Zeus and Poseidon’s war starts taking every last drop of rain. Kara thought the harvest could still continue despite the scraps of water over the years, but it quickly dies at her feet.

It’s not the first time a harvest has failed and it won’t be the last. But this is the first time Kara knows in her core, the essence tied inescapably with Nature, that she is not going to flourish for a long, long time.

Alex has the comfort of hiding in soil, her mother old enough to remain stalwart. But Kara is painfully young by their standards. No matter how gently the sun washes her in light, she withers. Her hair falls limp and her shoulders hunch.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Mick says when he sees her, a week after the failure.

Kara groans. “Don’t say that!” her voice has gone a tad hoarse with how parched she’s getting.

His brow furrows. Kara explains what happened, how her mouth is the driest thing _ever_ and how Nature is worsening by the day because of the heat of Zeus and Poseidon’s battles.

“Honestly,” she finishes with a tired sigh, “would it kill them to spare a _little_ rain? Some cold? The lightning kids have been running whirlwinds all over the place, but they can’t run forever, poor guys.”

Kara plops to the ground, partly for dramatic effect, mostly because she can’t stand anymore. Talking is _tiring_.

“If only there was some way to get the plants to sleep,” she pants, “They need a chance to cool off, y’know? But I can’t sleep because of this _heat_ , and there’s nowhere I can go that’ll get them dormant anyway. I just—need to distance myself. Right?”

She strains to pull her head up. Mick’s looking thoughtful.

“I see gears turning,” Kara breathes. “I’m—I’m all ears here.”

“It goes against pretty much every law Zeus has put in place,” Mick says.

“Mhm.”

“There’ll be hell to pay.”

“Already that hot.”

Mick looks over his shoulders. Looks back at her. “Thing is…there’s one place you can go where Nature can’t reach.”

It takes a second for Kara’s fuzzy brain to process. “You…you’d do that?”

Mick shrugs. “Got way too many of those maple bacon cupcakes anyway. Someone’s gotta eat ‘em.”

Kara smiles weakly. “Knew you didn’t throw _all_ of ‘em away.” She pushes to her feet on shaky arms. “I can send a message to my family though, right?”

“Hermes’ll come by tomorrow,” Mick replies, “I don’t see why not.”

“Awesome. Um. Just one thing.”

“What?”

Kara sucks in a few laborious breaths. “You’re gonna have to catch—” she passes out.

So really, it’s Zeus _and_ Poseidon’s fault that Persephone fell into Hades’ arms. Take _that_.

 

It’s not as dark as Kara thought it would be. There are a _lot_ of flaming braziers, not to mention the huge fireplace she wakes up across from.

But it is cold. Wonderfully, beautifully cold. Kara almost can’t remember the last time she was able to breathe this deeply.

The sheets wrapped around her are crimson silk, perfect for keeping cold. When Kara looks up, she sees a _huge_ arched headboard of stone with what looks like the whole Underworld carved into it. Either this came pre-packaged, or Leonard Snart had something to do with the design.

Considering how close he and Mick are, Kara doesn’t think that’s too far-fetched.

She’s far from hydrated, but at least she’s not gasping. She’ll definitely take it.

Slowly, Kara sits up. Her limbs are still heavy with exhaustion, but she has to at least find Mick and thank him. Plus, _Underworld_. She’s got to see what’s up.

Other than a sturdy wardrobe to the left of the bed, there’s next to no furniture in the room besides a sorry-looking chair in front of the fireplace. Kara’s thin shorts and v-neck aren’t the best choices for the cold, no matter how good it feels. Hopefully Mick has some pajamas or something that won’t completely drown her.

Surprisingly, the wardrobe opens the moment her feet touch the obsidian floor. Not just that, but there are outfits in there that are _her_ size.

 _Magic_. Nice.

Only thing is, everything’s a little…not her style.

But hey, she’s in the _Underworld_.

 

“I feel like an evil queen,” Kara says. “I love it way more than I thought I would.”

Mick glances over her with an appreciative eye. “Y’make it look good. Though,” looking at Kara’s bright grin, “I’m still gettin’ Disney Princess vibes.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know how much time passes.”

“Leonard Snart also delivers my mail.”

“…right.”

Still, Disney Princess vibes or not, Kara is _loving_ this dress. It’s black velvet, first of all, so, _yes_. Subtly pointed shoulders too, with elongated bell cuffs at the wrist. The bosom is heart-shaped, but more pointed, complementing the way the bottom of the dress fans out. It hugs her body but in the _best_ way. She managed to find some dead irises to weave into her bun, though they’re slowly regaining vibrancy on the sides of her head like a pseudo-crown of laurels from Rome.

Plus, black heels.

Mick either has really good fashion sense, or the Underworld knows what it’s doing. Either way, Kara is keeping this thing.

“I _can_ keep it, right?” she asks, “Please?”

Mick shrugs. “It’s s’pposed to be for you anyway.”

“Really?”

He seems confused by the answer. “Yeah? _I_ ain’t gonna wear it.”

Kara throws her arms around him. “You are just the best, you know that?”

“Uh.”

“I feel so much better, by the way. Thanks again!”

“ _Uh_.”

“Oh! Right!” Kara jumps back. “Personal bubble. Sorry.”

Mick stares blankly at her. Wreathed in Underworld’s shadows, the contours of his cheekbones and jaw are twice as sharp.

Underworld. Kara’s in the _Underworld_.

“My family!” she cries. “Oh f—rickle frackle, I have to send a message to my family! They’re probably worried _sick_!”

Mick mouths ‘frickle frackle’ and shakes his head. “Already taken care of. Should be gettin’ a reply soon.”

Len promptly saunters in. Despite the room’s vaulted ceilings and enormous windows, his presence fills it almost as much as Mick’s. Mick smirks.

“Zeus is pissed,” Len reports, “so that’s one mission accomplished. And your mother and sister say—they told me to tell you not to take this the wrong way—to stay right where you are. The earth is sleeping, but other plants are thriving. Cabbages _everywhere_. Big improvement.”

Kara gasps, clasping her hands together. “That’s awesome!”

“There’s just one problem.”

“What?” Mick asks.

Len tilts his head. “Like I said, Zeus is pissed. Royally. He’s not gonna take this lying down.”

“The one time he doesn’t,” Mick mutters. Kara snorts, and he smiles at her.

Len looks between them.

Slowly, he starts to smirk.

Kara balks. “I don’t like the look on your face.”

“Nonsense,” Len says, “it means I have a plan.” He takes a step closer to them. “Tell me. Have you ever considered the _joys_ of marriage?”

Kara splutters, leaving Mick to shout, “ _What_?!”

Len crosses his arms and shrugs. “The laws will back you up. And if Zeus doesn’t accept it, I’m sure you can invoke some more—ancient practices.”

Kara narrows her eyes. “I’m not having sex in goat’s blood.”

The men stare at her, wide-eyed.

“What? I heard that’s a thing!”

Len shakes his head. “I was talking about eating fruit grown in the Underworld.”

Mick’s brow furrows. “There ain’t any fruit in the Underworld. Everything’s dead.”

“Yeah,” Kara says, “that’s sorta the point.”

Len draws a knife from his belt. “Mick is very much alive. And so is his blood. You, Persephone, can make _anything_ grow, especially at the rate you’ll need if you wanna stop Zeus from destroying everything.”

Mick looks at Kara. Kara looks back.

Sure, Mick’s her friend. A very good friend, actually. But _marriage_? Kara tries to imagine it—married to Hades, King of the Underworld. It would make her a queen, probably give her new powers too. But Kara’s more than content with her position in the cosmos. Or she was, until Zeus and Poseidon decided to ruin it.

But it’s not just a power play. It’s to save the harvest, and every harvest after that. Winter must thrive just as much as Spring. Yet it’s not even just that either. It’s marriage to _Mick_ , not a king.

Mick is…well, he’s a jerk a lot of the time. Is completely obsessed with fire. Doesn’t like maple bacon cupcakes. Is a known criminal in league with Len whenever he can be. He’s got a ruthless streak a mile wide when it comes to the souls sent to Tartarus, and he hates defiance.

But he listens to Kara. He took a huge risk to save her life. And no matter how many times Kara tries to think of reasons to say no, all she can see is that shadow staring longingly at the stars.

She turns to Mick and holds out her hand. “For Nature?”

Mick stares blankly at her. “Seriously?”

Kara tries for a smile to cover her nerves. “Come on. Think of the massive workload you’ll have if we don’t go through with this.”

“Yes,” Len drawls, “for _Nature_ , Mick.”

Mick throws him a glare. Then he grasps Kara’s hand.

“Don’t say I never did anything for the world,” he says.

“Of course,” Len says, “because that’s the only—”

“ _Snart_.”

Kara tries to look inquisitive, but she can’t keep the sunny grin off her face. “Let’s do this.”

 

They work it out with a pomegranate: twelve seeds, each for a month of the year. Kara will eat six, so she can go back up to the surface for the flourishing seasons and come back down so the world can cool.

Kara coaxes the pomegranate from Mick’s bleeding palm. It soon flourishes through the cascade of gold.

“See?” she says, “Not everything you touch has to die.”

She looks up to see his awestruck face. And, well, she can’t _not_ kiss his cheek.

It’s agreed that Kara will eat the seeds at the wedding—which will not take place over _any_ of the Lakes, thanks but no thanks, she’s heard enough stories about those puppies—to really rack up the strength of the laws they’ll be invoking.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Sara says when she finds out. “You don’t have to go through with this,” she tells Kara. “You could just take the seeds. Trust me—being stuck with Mick for that long isn’t as fun as it sounds.”

Kara feels heat well in her eyes and, curiously, frost gathering in her breath—already developing those new powers, she guesses. But instead, she gives Sara a tight smile and goes to assist one of the Furies with the dead floral arrangements.

Kara gets help with her wedding dress from—and this is no lie—giant spiders. There’s a Tim Burton joke to be made here, but to be honest their silk actually creates a spectacular gown.

A gown that Kara totally modeled off of Arwen’s dresses, because those elves have _style_. The end product is a translucent white dress with long, flowing bell sleeves and a round collar that stops just above her cleavage. The train fans out behind her, the subtle embroidered irises creating a floral trail in her wake.

Sara helps with her hair: a layered bun with two strings of flowers on her temples that flow back into it and onto her head in a small circlet. The flowers quickly decay, but Kara thinks it’s fitting for an Underworld bride. They also give her the determination to build a garden down here.

She’ll do it. _Somehow_.

When she comes out to get Mick’s opinion, the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, “She’s right, y’know. About bein’ stuck with me.”

Kara responds by taking his hand and swinging it a little. “No she’s not.” With a smile, she adds, “Face it, _you’re_ the one who’s stuck with _me_. I’m gonna shower you in maple bacon cupcakes for the rest of eternity. My wedding gift.”

That’s when he kisses her.

It’s oddly tentative, though Kara supposes he’s not expecting her to respond. The wedding’s not for a couple hours, after all.

She uses that to her advantage and dips him. He grunts loudly in surprise, but he doesn’t do anything about it except get a _lot_ more enthusiastic.

Got a thing for women who can lift him. Kara can respect that.

There’s a sound of a camera clicking. Kara spins a slightly dazed Mick back to his feet and looks over, only to see Len holding an iPhone.

“My sister likes scrapbooking,” says Len. There’s a devious grin that Kara’s not sure she likes.

Whatever. Mick _likes_ her.

She laughs and kisses her fiancé again. This time, Mick lifts her until her feet are swinging lightly at his shins. She cups his cheek and holds onto his shoulder.

For the first time in millennia, the entirety of the Underworld knows warmth.

 

Sara officiates in the castle’s great hall. There’s not much to the decorations: a few batches of dead flowers hanging from the arched ceiling, a couple stands with more arrangements lining the red carpet that leads to Mick’s throne—and its new partner made of vivid red wood. But everything has a grandiose touch all the same, it being a _castle_ and all, so Kara’s satisfied.

Since Alex and her mother couldn’t come, Kara asked Mick to just walk with her down the aisle. The whole “giving away” thing is objectifying anyway.

A chorus of souls sings them down. With Mick at her side, Kara can almost understand what they’re saying, though the melodies and languages of the dead are still too chaotic for her ears.

“Alright,” Sara says once they’re situated, Kara’s train cascading down the two steps beside her, “Zeus could storm in any second, so let’s make this quick.”

Huh. Even Furies and twisted creatures do polite laughs—though it kinda sounds like when you push down on a bunch of those inflatable chicken toys and let go.

Sara puts a huge, ancient tome on the old podium before her. She flips to the bookmarked page. “Alright. Let’s start with the vows.”

The old language of their homeland comes easier than Kara thought it would. She supposes she never really forgot it. It stayed with her as steadfastly as the first bloom. It brings a smile to her face.

Yet as she and Mick recite their devotion and commitment, their words seem to have tangible weight. It gets heavier and heavier, until Kara’s panting with the effort to keep going. They were warned about this—you have to prove what you’re saying. If she really wants to do this, she has to finish.

She sucks in another breath and looks up at Mick’s clenched face. He’s practically snarling the words now, almost indecipherable, but he’s holding on.

Kara squeezes his hands. She _will_ finish.

The final words are recited, and the weight disperses. Kara sags a little.

Mick squeezes her hands.

Kara gives him a weak smile.

“Okay,” Sara says, “that happened.” Polite dying chicken laughter. “Now let’s move to the pomegranate seeds. Kara, I’m afraid you’ll have to recite some more.”

Great.

Kara takes the seeds from her. She steps forward and tells Mick, “Hold me up.”

Mick puts his arm around her waist, gripping her arm with his other hand.

“Ready?” Sara asks.

Kara takes a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

What follows? _Youch_.

Kara doesn’t wanna say it feels like dying, but it feels like dying. Beings like her don’t know Death outside of the literal personifications. They never truly experience rot growing in them, of everything they are fading into nothing. With each seed she vows on and swallows, Kara feels the sunlight of her blooms crumble to dust.

But she has to accept Death as part of her, sew it into her bones as surely as her blossoms grow in her palms. So she clenches her teeth and swallows each seed until they’re gone. By the end, she’s pale as the grave and shaking violently, but she’s conscious.

The chorus of the dead is singing a quiet hymn of union. Shadows flow from their corners and curl at Kara’s feet as if to bow.

“You are of Death, and Death is of you,” Thanatos bellows. “Creatures of shadow: your queen!”

Kara should probably stand a little straighter if even the Furies and gorgons are pledging their allegiance. (Is that the _Minotaur_? Whoa. Flexible.) She gathers her strength and raises herself on her tip-toes to kiss Mick.

Around them, the flowers are revived.

Len takes a few more pictures. Apparently Zeus follows him on Instagram, and he said he wanted to send everything to him right in the moment. Kara hopes he uses a good filter; she doesn’t want Zeus to think the Underworld has made her weak.

(coldfeet: six pomegranate seeds, six months. #UnderworldWedding #GodSaveTheQueen)

 

And so, the harvest is saved and Len gets a more reliable time of year to make snow angels. Kara misses her family when she’s in the Underworld, but she gains a new one down there too: a bunch of criminals who adore Len and steal things for Mick from the surface. Len fondly calls them the Rogues. Kara makes them cupcakes.

Her husband’s still a jerk. Sometimes they have fights that makes Kara stay on the surface a little longer out of spite, but their vows call her back and it doesn’t last long after that.

By the way, the maple bacon cupcake promise she made? Definitely a thing.

And it’s all Zeus’ fault.


End file.
